Break My Heart Not My Face
by Leopard Print and Diamonds
Summary: How can Ron be so dense about Hermione's feelings for him? Miss KnowitAll Granger is so busying crushing on Ron that she doesn't realize there's chemistry brewing between her and someone else: her mortal enemy.  DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Break My Heart Not My Face Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds  
Notes: DracoxHermione. 7th Year. Meh to HBP (let's pretend it didn't happen). Hermione is Head Girl. Draco is up to no good. Sassy happenings and couture ensue. Rock on.

Chapter One: Put on Your Designer Dancing Shoes

"Welcome to Cherry Bomb, Miss Granger. We hope your evening is filled with fun, friends, and sexy dancing." Ginny Weasley's angelic face was stern. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke. "We here at the club would like to congratulate you for being chosen as Head Girl of Hogwarts. And for being able to put up with Harry and Ron for soooo many years." Her serious facade melted into giggles. "You've earned it, kiddo."

"Uh, can I escort you in?" Ron stammered a bit and blushed. He jerked his shoulder and offered Hermione a rigidly bent arm. Hermione curled her fingers into the crook of his elbow. She couldn't help but smile at his earnest attempt to be gentleman. He'd probably blush bright red and choke in surprise if she tried to hold his hand. It's what she really wanted, but she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Ron's skull was as dense as granite. He had no idea that she had a crush on him and had been trying to give him subtle hints. Hermione was now frustrated enough to consider just hitting him in the face and screaming, "I like you!". But even that might be too subtle for Ron to grasp.

"Lead the way." She chose to smile at him rather than punch him.

Cherry Bomb was the club that Ginny had chosen for a night out celebration in Hermione's honor. The club was popular because of its retro glam theme. Everyone who wanted to get in had to dress the part--only people wearing vintage-style clothes were allowed past the red velvet ropes that guarded the entrance. It made the place more classy and exclusive than the usual hump-and-bump clubs most young people went to. And only classy and exclusive would do, since Hermione was a lady.

"Pick a good table, Ron." Harry called from behind. He and Ginny were holding hands and talking softly to themselves in a very couple-y way. Hopefully Ron would get the hint that he was technically Hermione's date and should act couple-y, too. Ginny had gone all-out to help Hermione look especially pretty for this evening. She had used three obnoxious-smelling potions to transform Hermione's monster poof of hair into silky waist-length tresses. It had been amazing how long her hair was when the tangles of curls were finally tamed. But pretty hair wasn't enough to catch Ron's fleeting attention. Ginny also had helped Hermione to pick out and put on flattering makeup. Her eyelashes were curled and her lips glossed cherry red in honor of the club.

"Bombshell" was the word Ginny had used to describe her.

Hermione repeated the word in her head like a mantra for confidence. She squeezed Ron's arm playfully and gave him a saucy over-the-shoulder look when he glanced down at her. He coughed and stopped without warning at the first empty table he saw. Hermione, still moving, nearly tripped over his foot, but regained her balance by hanging on to his arm like a cat clinging to a high branch. She had faltered, but her confidence took a bigger stumble.

Hermione chose to slink gracefully into her seat at the small round table before Ron could try to pull out her chair. Ron gawked at her, trying to figure out why she was suddenly so cold with him. Hermione pretended to be too focused on looking around the large, noisy club. The tables were all draped in flowing red fabric that had a slight shimmer in the dim lighting. Black ruched curtains covered the walls, giving the place a luxurious feel. The only bright light came from the ball-room-sized dance floor. It highlighted the energetic movement of the dancers and the polished brass instruments of the big band. Hermione's anxiety melted into pure, fluttering excitement. She felt young, alive, and vibrant. It was wonderful.

A dark-haired waiter came and only bothered to check Hermione's id. He flirted and winked at her the entire time he took everyone's drink orders. When he brought their drinks, Ron noticed that Hermione's signature Cherry Bomb was as large as his rum and coke.

"What an arrogant git! Probably thinks he can win you over with a wink and a drink." Ron grumbled. Anger wrinkled his mouth into a boyish pout. Was he jealous?

"Ah well. His loss." She smiled and stirred the ice in her tall glass. Ron was not satisfied with her response. He grumbled under his breath until Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Ron."

He sulked into his drink.

Harry, watching the exchange, made a show of turning the table's attention to Ginny.

"Gin? Wanna dance? I can say, with confidence, I should only step on your toes... oh, twenty times. I practiced all week. Interested?" Harry waggled his dark eyebrows at Ginny. His green eyes shone with mischief.

"Don't you dare step on these shoes! I borrowed them from Hermione. They're designer couture."

"Couture? I've never heard of that brand." Harry snorted. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes.

"It's not a brand. It's name for high fashion, doofus.." She put her hand in Harry's, allowing him to help her stand.

Harry looked at Ron and coughed. He cleared his throat. He tilted his head toward the dance floor. He coughed again. Ron just stared at the condensation gathering on the side of his tall glass. Hermione hid a smile behind a prim hand.

"Oi, Ron! Why don't you and Hermione come with us?" Ginny barked as if they were playing a game of Quidditch. It was the only way to get Ron to listen.

"Sure! Do you want to, Hermione?" Ron turned his attention to his maybe-almost-date. Hermione nodded and let him guide her to the dance floor. A nice slow song was playing, so Ron didn't have to try any fancy footwork. He could simply hold Hermione close to him and sway back and forth to the mellow music. But even swaying seemed to fluster poor Ron. His shoulders hunched with tension and he held her nearly an arms' length away. It was a pathetic sight, in comparison to the sweet way Ginny and Harry held each other and seemed to snuggle instead of dance. Ron's embarrassment had been cute at the beginning of the evening, but it was quickly grating away at Hermione's patience. She didn't want to make eye contact and risk letting him see the annoyance in her face, so she stared at one of the buttons on the front of his navy blue dress shirt. After several long-drawn minutes, the band swung full-force into a jive. An expression of total confusion turned Ron's cheeks bright red. He stood like a stone statue on a dance floor full of dancing couples. There were a few who danced like it was their job, but most people at the club were here just to have a good time and try out some fun steps.

At least they were trying. Hermione hmphed.

"I didn't come here to stand around! Let me help you!" Her voice barely carried above the loud brass. She'd taken ballet and jazz lessons since she was 3, so she could hold her own in the crowd. Holding Ron's hand, Hermione did a set of simple steps. "Spin me!" She cried, motioning for him to raise his arm. They managed a less-than-awkward spin. Relief washed over Ron's tense face. He actually managed to smile and appear like he was enjoying himself. Hermione beamed. She was happy, even though dancing with Ron wasn't the fancy spectacle she'd daydreamed about all week.

"Spin!" She laughed again, twirling her finger in the air so Ron understood what she wanted. He was eager to please her. Too eager. He didn't go for a simple spin. Instead, he jerked Hermione toward him as if her arm were an emergency ripcord. Wide-eyed and surprised, she stumbled forward and fell into him. Ron, luckily, had a talent for standing like a statue. He caught Hermione by her elbows, but couldn't avoid taking a step back to keep his balance. His shoulder jostled a nearby couple.

"Oi! Watch yourself, you horse's ass!" The man turned to yell over his shoulder. Hermione saw his face in profile.

The snarl, the blonde hair, and aristocratic face hit Hermione like a jelly-leg jinx. Malfoy. Slytherin brat, evil git, and her most-hated enemy from school. Hermione knew the night would go from 'awkward' to 'bloody disaster' in seconds if she didn't drag Ron away before Malfoy recognized them.

"Forget him! Let's find Ginny and Harry!" She stood on tiptoe to speak into his ear. Grabbing his hand, she led him through the busy dance floor. Her bare back burned with what she imagined was Draco Malfoy's hateful gaze. She prayed he was too busy showing off to his date to notice their presence at the club. Where were Ginny and Harry? Her neck strained as she searched through the crowd for Ginny's bright red hair.

Back at the table, Hermione told her friends what had happened.

"What? That prat was Malfoy? You should have let me wallop him, 'Mione. The wand George and Fred gave me is probably ten times better than his bloody piece of work. I'd like to see him just try to say anything to me tonight." Ron's hands clenched around his glass as if he were strangling someone.

"Hey! This is Hermione's night. I don't want you boys dueling it out on the dance floor. Let's go someplace else. There's some punk club a few streets over. You like that kind of music, Hermione? Don't you?"

"You bet." Her cheeks turned pink. She took a demure sip of her drink and avoided Ron's questioning eyes. "It sounds like a fun place."

"Great. Let's get the hell out of here." Harry draped his suit coat over his arm. He held Ginny firmly against his side. They were about the leave when a mocking whistle sounded nearby.

"Well well. So, it was you, Weasley. I could smell you from the dance floor." The nostrils of Malfoy's haughty nose flared. Pansy, latched to his arm, giggled on cue as usual. Hermione's eye twitched. She didn't like the way his cold eyes roamed over every inch of her body. He devoured her with a sexual stare that made her stomach drop into her shoes. Her hand instantly sought Ron's for comfort and protection. Ron snorted at Malfoy's blatant disrespect. He flushed hot red from his neck to the tips of his ears. Harry stood Ginny behind him. One hand balled into a fist while the other clasped around the wand in his jacket pocket. Malfoy's lips twisted into a dry smirk.

"Malfoy! I'm going to--!" Ron exploded without a stammer. He was about to take a step forward, no doubt, intent on pummeling Malfoy without thinking through his actions, when Hermione stopped him. She stepped between Ron and Malfoy. Both guys stood over six feet tall, so it was a pretty daring thing for her to do. The little spitfire kept her stance.

"Ron, don't! He's not worth it. He's nothing. Filth." Her hair brushed her back as she shook her head for emphasis. "We're what matter right now. Don't let him spoil it." She took his face in her hands as she spoke. Her lips met his in a sweet, gentle kiss that she hoped made him forget about wanting to murder Malfoy.

"Hermione..." He whispered, his blue eyes widening with a happy kind of surprise. She simply smiled back.

"C'mon. Let's go." Her eyes pleaded. He nodded.

"Yeah! That's right!" Ron loosened his tie and squared his shoulders. "You're lucky there are ladies present... … And Pansy." He quipped. Hermione's laugh burst out as an unlady-like guffaw. She placed a hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. Malfoy sniffed in outrage and made a grab for his pocket.

"RUN before he gets his wand!" Ginny squealed.

Hermione skittered away as fast as her high heeled wedges could carry her. Ron held onto her arm as extra form of support, helping her keep the fast getaway pace. The last glimpse Draco Malfoy saw of the group was Mudblood's face. She glanced back for a moment, her face glowing with laugher. Draco narrowed his eyes in warning. Meeting his gaze, she narrowed her eyes in challenge.


	2. Crookshanks for the Win

Title: Break My Heart Not My Face

Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds

Notes: Ipods and Laptops and hardrock, oh my! Special thanks go to Kia Weip and Ciao Roma for being awesome. You are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter stuff belongs to JRK. I just wrote this story.

Chapter Two: Crookshanks for the Win

Hermione pressed her back into the plush velvet cushion of the bench seat. The Heads of House compartment on the Hogwarts' Express was definitely more deluxe than the regular student compartments. Even the curtains appeared to cost a fortune, she mused. Ah well. She'd only stay long enough to meet the Head Boy. Then, she'd meet up with her friends for the rest of the train ride to school.

Beside her, Crookshanks purred in contentment. He flicked his bristle brush of a tail against the soft travel blanket he was currently nesting in. Hermione patted his head and gave her own contented sigh. She took her pink Ipod from her large satchel purse and popped the pink earbuds into her ears. It took only a few seconds for her to find the album she wanted to listen to: Guns n Roses Greatest Hits. Most people thought that because Hermione was a genius, she only wanted to listen to music with harpsichords and string quartets. She had gone through a classical music phase her first year at Hogwarts. Back then, she'd been too insecure to listen to any 'non-intellectual' music. But that was then. Now, she was purely a punk and hardrock kind of girl.

Hermione closed her eyes and tapped her foot as the strong thrums of bass and guitar filled her ears. Apparently, every student at Hogwarts was given an Ipod and a laptop computer for the upcoming school year. She already had both, so it was a pleasant surprise to learn she could bring both with her. In his letters to the students, Dumbledore had explained the importance of all students learning to use these two essential Muggle technologies. He'd even assigned an email address for each student.

Hermione could only imagine how much trouble students were going to have with figuring out how to get their Ipods and laptops to work. The Slytherins especially... She smirked, imagining how a little mp3 player would unleash a plague of frustration and foul language for the snobbish pure-bloods. It would serve them right for being so hateful and prejudice about Muggles.

The compartment door slid open with a graceless bang. The noise made Hermione jump in surprise. One of her earbuds fell from her ear. She stroked a hand through her long wavy hair to find it. Distracted, she didn't bother to glance up to see who the Head Boy was. By her calculations, she deduced that it was either Oldridge Pierce from Ravenclaw or Teddy Reynolds from Hufflepuff. Both had extremely high test scores and were star Quidditch players. Teddy's extracurricular activities were a bit shoddy, though, compared to Oldridge's ...

"What? No "hello" or "why the hell are YOU here?" for me, Granger? You might be the top at charms and hexes, but your manners are bottom-of-the-barrel." Draco Malfoy, poised and watching from the doorway, shook his platinum head in faint derision. Or was he flicking his hair prettily from his eyes? Hermione couldn't tell. She tried to keep her jaw from hitting the plush carpeting.

"Why are you here? Teddy and Oldridge are outstanding students.. and ... and ... they're both star Quidditch players..." Hermione's brow wrinkled as she triple-checked the criteria in her head, searching for the mistake she made in tallying them up.

"They are star players, but not the star. I'm the only team captain of the bunch. So game over. I win--and I didn't have to maim or murder anyone to do it." He smiled smugly and eased from his languid lean against the door frame. He stretched his tall body across the bench seat as if he were the Prince of Hogwarts. It all seemed to be a mocking show for Hermione's annoyed entertainment.

Hermione simply quirked an unbelieving eyebrow in response. She appeared to be calm and collected, but she felt like fainting from the shock. Of all people to be stuck with for a year ... she had Draco Malfoy. A rabid Hippogriff would make a better roommate! She'd have to curse-proof everything she owned so he couldn't get the chance to randomly make trouble. UGH.

"Whatever. I don't have a say in the matter." She shrugged and plucked her lost earbud from her shoulder. Malfoy's calculating gray eyes studied her as she put it back in her ear. She took an advanced hex grimoire from her satchel and thumbed to a bookmarked page. Crookshanks purred and batted a lazy paw at the silver heart tag dangling from her Tiffany's toggle bracelet. She smiled.

"Dear Merlin, that cat is hideous." Malfoy sniped. Hermione pretended not to hear him, deliberately turning up the volume on her Ipod to block him out. Technically, she had to stay in the Heads' compartment for another 30 minutes before she could rejoin her friends. Checking her watch, Hermione noted the time and inwardly groaned. She could survive Malfoy's company for a half hour ... but for a school year? She'd probably need enough cheering charms to permanently damage her brain. Ah, mind-numbing bliss...

Thunder crackled over the lash of bass and guitars blaring in her ears. She glanced up at the window in time to see a bright bolt of lighting streak across graying, cloud-heavy horizon. Violent rain pelted the window with enough force to sound like someone was throwing marbles against the glass. Hermione frowned as Draco stood and drew the curtains together. A single sliver of dim light sliced through the middle of the cabin, marking the floor like a dividing line. Everything else fell into darkness.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to read." She said in her most cool, detached voice.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to take a nap. We're stuck together for the whole trip and I prefer to sleep through it. Probably like you when Weasley's trying to have a heavy snog."

"Wait, what?" She paused her music as Malfoy disappeared into the shadows of his side of the compartment. "I thought we could just sit here for a bit, then leave?"

"Not used to being wrong, Miss Know-it-All? Hmm. You would think that... probably because I was supposed to show you this letter Dumbledore left for us at the station. You seemed too busy reading your book to care about a little letter. I didn't want to ... disturb you." He spoke with a mannered voice that dripped with sweetly poisoned sarcasm. He offered the letter and she snatched it from him.

"Lumos!" Using her wand as a light, Hermione scanned the document. She and Draco were officially instructed to complete the train ride together and then share a special table at the welcoming feast. It was a new Head of House rule created especially for their sake. Hermione wondered just what else Dumbledore planned on surprising them with. "Honestly! This is the most ridiculous thing."

"Yeah. I'd rather be with my own kind... and you'd rather be with emo Potter and your clumsy-ass, embarrassing boyfriend." He hissed in a way only a true Slytherin could.

"I'm not embarrassed by him." Hermione replied instantly, pleased that someone thought she and Ron were an item. She didn't bother correcting him. "Stop talking about him. He's not here to defend himself."

"Defend himself? Don't you mean he's not here to hurl an insult and then run away like a coward?" The words were soft and mocking. Hermione couldn't see Malfoy's face, but she had the feeling his eyes were burning through the distance across the compartment.

Remembering the night at the dance club, Hermione laughed quietly. It was the first time Ron had been smart and had walked away from a potential fight. Ron was ten times a man for refusing to get caught up in a brawl. She respected him for that.

"Whatever." She sighed, thinking the word would probably be her default response for the next year. She mumbled an incantation and tapped her book with her wand. The letters on the pages glowed with a faint but readable purple light. "Nox!" Her wand blinked to darkness. She was glad Malfoy pulled the curtains together. It meant she didn't have to look at his smug, smirking face.

A while later, a knock sounded from the door.

"Snack trolley, dears!" The snack lady sang happily.

"Enter." Malfoy's reply was no-nonsense. He didn't bother opening the curtains.

"Oh, dears, it's ... cozy in here." the lady chuckled, though a slight motherly undertone of worry touched her voice. "I'm not much for thunderstorms, either. Can I get you anything, dears? Everything's complimentary, of course. Miss Granger, I've brought you an iced organic green tea latte with vanilla soymilk. And Mr Malfoy, you have a stein of butterbeer." The snack lady set the drinks on two enchanted coasters that floated conveniently in the air. Hermione thanked her and asked for three chocolate frogs. Draco asked for the same.

When the snack lady left, Hermione sipped her latte and nibbled a chocolate frog. She would give Ron the collectible wizard card at dinner... which was still a long way off. Hermione made a quiet, strangled sound in the back of her throat. The train ride would take at least another four Malfoy-filled hours. She thumbed through her Ipod's artist menu and picked Lady Sovereign. The energetic, in-your-face feel of the album fit Hermione's mood. The last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep.

... which is exactly what happened.

Hermione woke with her Ipod in her hand and a blissfuly warm Crookshanks curled up in her lap. A chill had crept into the now pitch-black compartment, thanks to the cold rain and the onset of nighttime. She pulled the earbuds from her ears, since turning the player off would make the screen light turn on. Hermione didn't want Malfoy to know she was awake. Being stuck so close to him in the the dark intensified her survival senses. Her ears strained to catch a rustle of clothing or the slow rhythm of his breath. For all she knew, he was asleep.

"Pretending to sleep, Granger? I thought that was a game for children?" Malfoy's voice cut across the cold distance.

"Hmm?" Still groggy and a bit disoriented, Hermione couldn't form an entire sentence.

"Merlin, you snore like a howling mandrake root." He hissed.

"I do not!" She shot back. "And why are you so fascinated with how I sleep? How long have you been spying on me?"

"I don't have to spy when I'm sitting five feet away!" He grumbled. Hermione fumed. She did NOT snore, so there was no reason for Malfoy to be in such a huff.

"Don't remind me! This is the last time I'll ever be this close to you! And that's a promise." Hermione felt kind of silly for arguing with someone she couldn't see. It gave her a boost of courage.

"Really? How can you promise that? In case it slipped your frizzled mind, we're going to be sharing a dorm for the next ... oh, entire school year." He bit out the words with deliberate venom.

"I have my room; you have yours. You stay out of my way and I'll steer clear of you. I'm not asking for a truce or anything because I don't trust you. I'm just hoping you're smart enough to know I'll return anything you do to me ten times over. It's not a threat. It's the reality of things."

"Don't you dare threaten me!"

She felt him move, by instinct, before she heard it. Two hands pushed her shoulders hard against the back of the seat cushion. Warm breath that smelled sweet with chocolate and butterbeer touched her side-swept bangs and brushed her forehead. Hermione gasped and felt her heart wrench from the sudden shock. The muscles tightened as painfully as if her heart were literally breaking in half. She'd been having secret problems ever since Antonin Dolohov's curse had struck her in the chest during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. The curse had royally effed up her insides, with her heart taking the most damage. Only her parents, Professor Mcgonagall, and Dumbledore knew of her condition. There really wasn't a magical cure for things. Time and relaxing bubble baths were the only remedies to help mend her broken heart.

This time, however, she needed to reach one of the small potion vials she always carried in her purse.

"Malfoy...stop! Stop! Can't... ..." She tried to twist from his grasp, and ended up choking from lack of breath. Crookshanks yowled like a miniature lion. He hissed and raged in defense of his mistress. Hermione's elbows came up and she finally managed to push Draco back, hiccuping and gasping like a drowning person. He used magic to instantly light the compartment candles.

"Merlin, Granger! I'm not trying to rape you!" He hissed as she reached for what he thought was her wand. She ignored him and dumped the contents of her purse across the seat. Her small hands sorted through the various items until she found one of the special vials. She twisted off the cork and downed the sweet gold-and-red speckled liquid. The Heartstrings potion worked instantly. The muscles of her chest contracted and relaxed in a wave as if someone were strumming the strings of a harp. She coughed a relieved breath.

"Sorry. I have ... asthma." Hermione lied. She couldn't hide her embarrassment. She bent her head so her hair hid her face. Draco Malfoy stood silently over Hermione as she placed everything back into her satchel. Crookshanks sat beside her, a warning yowl grumbling in his throat. His yellow eyes were fixed murderously on Malfoy.

"If this is how you react when a bloke touches your shoulder, I bet kissing Weasley is a real freak show." Malfoy muttered caustically. Crookshanks hissed.

"Ignore him, baby." Hermione whispered and scooped up her fuzzy little protector. She rested her chin lightly on top of his head. He purred as she scratched behind his stubby ears. He deserved to eat Salmon and cream for a week: Especially when a few hours later, Crookshanks wove through Draco's ankles and made sure the young Slytherin tripped down the short stairs between the train and the Hogwarts station platform.


	3. Somebody Avada Me Already

Title: Break My Heart Not My Face

Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds

Notes: Special thanks go to everyone who's reviewed, added this to their faves, or added a story alert!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter stuff belongs to JKR. I just wrote this story.

Chapter Three: Somebody Avada Me Already

Every student (and professor)at the welcome feast knew about Malfoy's little tumble from the Hogwarts Express. They also knew that a squish-faced, scruffy cat was responsible. Already, a whispering wave of gossip was calling this the Slytherin Prince's well-deserved 'fall from grace'--all thanks to an overweight cat owned by a Muggle-born genius.

The Head's table was secluded, ornately-carved, and only big enough for two people. Hermione sat on one end, her hands folded primly in her lap. Draco sat on the opposite, his anger and embarrassment barely contained as students began to fill the hall.

"Meeeoooooowr!!!!" Someone from a group of Hufflepuffs called as they walked by. Malfoy's head snapped in their direction. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Things only got worse.

Malfoy grimaced when a girl from Ravenclaw brought Hermione a jingle bell that 'Crookshanks might enjoy batting around'. He outright growled when the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team brought Hermione a varsity sweater that 'might make a cozy bed for Crookshans'. Hermione graciously accepted the presents. She ignored Malfoy's narrowed, piercing gaze.

He hmphed through the Sorting Hat ceremony and mumbled through singing the school's alma mater. When it was time to eat, Hermione wanted to sneak to the Gryffindor table. Her eyes met Ron's from across the hall. She sent him a look of pleading despair.

"We-will-see-you-to-mor-row!" He gestured as he mouthed the syllables. Hermione nodded, then waved to Harry and Ginny. She watched as Ginny crinkled her nose, turned toward Harry, and batted at his shoulder like a cat with a ball of yarn. Harry threw his head back and flailed his arms in the air, pantomiming Malfoy's fall. Hermione nearly laughed pumpkin juice out her nose. She pretended to cough as Malfoy glared icily at her. Surprisingly, he didn't say a word. His broad shoulders hunched in an angry sulk over his meal. Silently, Hermione ate the rest of her vegetarian lentil casserole.

At the end of the tense dinner, McGonagall and Snape lead the two Heads of House to their dormitory wing. A large portrait of a Victorian man and woman drinking tea guarded the passageway.

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, I would like to introduce you to Lady Regina and Lord Locklin. Be warned--they will be keeping an eye out for any ... shenanigans. So please mind your manners. Each Friday evening before you do rounds, you're to see either Professor Snape or myself for the new password. Understood?"

Hermione and Draco nodded. Snape scowled.

"And for your personal comfort, Miss Granger," The potions master hissed her name, "young Mr. Malfoy has also been instructed against using certain words to describe your ... less-than-pure wizarding blood." His lips curled, attempting an insincere smile. He managed a sideways sneer.

McGonagall hmphed under her breath.

"In order to be fair in the matter, Ms. Granger, you are also forbidden to call Mr. Malfoy crude names. Understood?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good. The password this week is 'Quidditch pitch'. Please report to Professor Snape's office at nine o'clock tomorrow evening for instructions on your first rounds. Be sure to wear your pins, and have your robes crisply pressed. Congratulations and good evening to you both." McGonagall spoke in her most stern voice. Pride shone in her eyes as she squeezed Hermione's shoulder and gave her a secret wink. Hermione smiled. It had taken six years of hard work to get here. She would make the Gryffindor house proud.

A tense silence followed Hermione and Malfoy into their common room. The space was warm and inviting. It had a crackling fire and fine brown leather furniture. Everything was lovely, but Hermione knew she would never use the room. She wanted to keep a grand distance between herself and Draco. That meant keeping to her private, password-locked bedroom. In the morning, she'd slather the door in protective charms.

Sighing, Hermione decided it was time for bed. She watched Draco from the corner of her eyes. He sat down on the chair closest to the fire and vacantly stared at the flickering flames. Hermione shuffled slowly away from him. At a safe distance, she spoke. It was better to be civil than to start a screaming match. As much as she loathed him...

"Listen, I'm sorry about Crookshanks. I'm glad you're not hurt. Don't worry about what people say. There's always a new person for the masses to pick on. It's how school works." She offered quietly.

Pure hatred, not fire light, gave his eyes a bright glow.

"You'll regret it, Granger. No one makes a fool of a Malfoy." He spoke in a voice so soft, Hermione could barely hear his words. He didn't throw a temper tantrum or snivel in outrage. Instead, he clenched his hands together and bowed his head. For the first time, Hermione took him seriously. A shiver crawled like a spider down her spine. She grit her teeth and stamped her hands on her hips.

"I don't have to make a fool of you. You do a bloody good job of that yourself." She spoke to him as if scolding a small child. "I apologized once for Crookshanks. Don't expect anything more from me. Good evening." She titled her head in a formal bow.

Her bedroom door closed with a firm click. She put a silencing charm on it, just to be sure Malfoy wouldn't listen in on her. Who knew what kind of evil plans were floating in his arrogant albino head. Groaning in frustration, Hermione fell face-first onto her king-sized bed. She buried her face into the burgundy silk duvet.

What she really wanted to do was hex his ass into next Thursday ... After all the horrible gossip he'd stirred up about Harry, Ron, and herself, now suddenly HE felt like a FOOL? Hermione was half-tempted to create a karma spell to teach him a lesson. Maybe she would save it for a rainy day, if and when he went through with his threat. A spell like that could easily get her in loads of trouble, though. And whiny little Draco Malfoy wasn't worth it.

Exhausted, she sighed and magically turned out the lights.


	4. Brewing up Trouble

Title: Break My Heart Not My Face

Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds

Notes: First day of school! And it's a long one. Poor Hermione. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, added this to their faves, or did a story alert. You're all too cool for school.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter stuff belong to JKR. I just wrote this story.

Chapter Four: Brewing up Trouble

Everyone at breakfast was a tangle of earbuds and Ipods. Last night, the house prefects had handed out the mp3 players and laptop computers to the students. Dumbledore had said something about using the technology to create equality and camaraderie between houses ... but instead, it seemed to create a bigger distance between people.

Hermione passed the Head of House table. In fact, she turned her head and ignored it. She and Malfoy had to sit there for special occasion, but other than that, they were free to sit anywhere else--aka as far, far away from each other as possible.

A small cluster of Gryffindors hooted and waved to catch her attention. She smiled, recognizing Neville. Harry and Ron, of course, were probably still in bed. And would miss out on breakfast. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Ron at potions in the afternoon.

"C'mon, Hermione! Saved you a seat!" Neville shouted, popping her dream bubble with a bagel slathered in cream cheese. Hermione blushed and joined her housemates.

She didn't get to think much about Ron for the rest of the morning.

Her first class of the day was Advanced Arithmancy--the study of the legitimate, logical way of using numbers and letters to tell fortunes. Arithmancy was the complete opposite of the rubbish that owl-faced Professor Trelawney taught in her bat's belfry of a classroom. Who could trust mushy tea leaves and scratched crystal balls? Hermione hmphed. Arithmancy was superior in every way, even though it was a hundred times more difficult...

She arrived to class ten minutes early so she could take her usual place at the middle desk in the front row. The prime seat. But someone was already there. Hermione fumed.

"Slacking off, Granger? I've been here for a whole ten minutes." Malfoy smirked. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You lose." A radiant, evil smile lit up his face.

There were only twelve seats in the classroom (yeah, Arithmancy was the least popular class EVER). The seats were grouped in four rows of three desks. With Draco in the middle of the front row, it meant that Hermione had to sit beside him if she wanted to be in the front row. She didn't like her options.

Frowning, Hermione picked the desk to his left. It scrapped painfully against the floor as she pulled it further away from him. The extra space was worth the effort. Malfoy snickered and plugged himself into his Slytherin-green Ipod. The thing appeared to be custom-made for him. Knowing Malfoy, it was probably pure silver. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Good morning, Hermione and Draco. Congratulations on being chosen as Heads of House." Professor Vector smiled. She set a gigantic portfolio brimming with papers on her desktop. After a few moments to adjust her fashionably angular glasses, she leaned against the side of the desk.

"Shouldn't we wait for the other students to get here? Before we start?" Hermione raised her hand. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and slight panic.

Professor Vector smiled. She was the youngest professor at Hogwarts and the most easy-going... even though her classes could be classified as mental torture.

"You're it, kiddo. You and Draco were the only students who passed last term. Doesn't that make things nice and simple?" Her equally angular face widened in a smile. "Weeding out the smarter students means we can move at a faster pace this term. We can also cover more complex equations and subjects. I'm very, very excited." Her violet eyes twinkled. It made Hermione a bit nervous. "Since there are only two of you, I'm debating how I want to structure the class. We can meet here like normal, or do group work or independent studies outside of class..." She ticked off the possibilities on her fingers.

"Independent study sounds like the most challenging option." Draco pretended to think things over. "I'd benefit most from it. Don't you think so ... Hermione?" His smile was suspiciously sweet. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly in warning, telling Hermione that she'd damn well better agree.

"Oh yes, definitely. Group work can be soooo tedious. Usually, more gossiping gets done than studying."

"And I don't work well with others. I'm plagued by perfectionism." Malfoy added, as charming as a toothy barracuda. Professor Vector nodded and appeared to mull over their opinions.

"We'll see. Let's have regular classes for a week, agreed? I'll let you know how I'm going to assign the major projects."

Hermione nearly hunched over in disappointment. The thought of having her grade depend on Malfoy caused a mental black cloud to spit thunder and rain on her good mood. Ron was the only happy thought that kept her sane. Seeing him felt like opening presents at Christmas--she could barely wait for it. At the end of class, she shoved a ton of homework parchments into her bag. She accidentally shouldered Malfoy as she walked to the doorway.

"'Scuse me." Was all she muttered. It was all he deserved. She slipped into the ladies' loo to check her hair and to apply fresh lip gloss. Any other year at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have cared so much about her appearance. But nearly dying in the battle of the Department of Mysteries had changed her. Hermione was different now.

Before her heart problems, she didn't care about herself enough to buy pretty clothes or makeup. She had hidden her painfully low self-esteem behind a know-it-all attitude and a mass of frizzled hair. The complications with her heart had forced her to re-evaluate things. Hermione had realized that she didn't want to live a life of meekness and regrets. So, she had made the decision to take pride in herself for more than her school marks.

Gazing into a mirror fixed above a sink, Hermione applied lip-gloss and a smudge of shimmery eyeshadow. It made her hazel eyes pop with simple beauty. She wet her hands and scrunched the ends of her hair into slight waves. Hopefully Ron would notice the subtle change. Ha. Not likely. But she did it for herself.

The same went for her choice in shoes. Before, Hermione had worn the most dreadful, practical shoes. They were funky, chunky, and plain butt ugly. Now, she only wore lovely designer brand shoes. She wasn't a label snob ... she only wanted to wear the best and the prettiest Muggle shoes. Transfiguration helped her budget A LOT. It was easy to wear designer couture when she could turn an ugly pair of shoes into Prada slingback kitten heels with a wave of her wand.

Hermione grinned, glad she'd transfigured her ugly old school shoes into a pair of patent leather Manolo Blahnik maryjanes--ones with a modified lower heel, of course. They went beautifully with her black textured tights. She sprayed her neck and wrists with a perfume that smelled like a sugar cookie covered in orange zest and warm spices. If Ron didn't notice her body (seeing as how school robes weren't flattering at all), he would definitely noticed that she smelled like food. Laughing, she threw her bag over her shoulder and walked to Potions with a bounce in her sassy-shoed step.

Thankfully, she was the first person to arrive. She used her bookbag and an advanced transfiguration textbook to claim seats for Harry and Ron. They beamed when they walked into the dungeon.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, clamping her into a bear hug. "You survived the night! Ron was worried Malfoy would try something sinister." He elbowed his friend in the ribs.

"Right! It's good to see you're all right, 'Mione." Ron smiled and took his turn in hugging her. "His face was downright murderous last night at dinner. He's probably plotting some kind of revenge for what Crookshanks did."

Hermione blushed.

"I don't know where he learned a trick like that." She laughed. "Am I a horrible person for still smiling when I think about how Malfoy sort of rolled as he fell? Kind of like a barrel."

"Not a barrel. A windmill." Harry added with a smirk. "We should make Crookshanks our official good luck charm this season. You could bring him to games and let the players pet him before we play. Snape would be livid. Word is, he's allergic to cats..."

"Ooooh, dirty tactics. Nice to see you're taking your captain role seriously." Hermione whispered as other students began to filter into the room. She narrowed her eyes at Draco Malfoy when he and his Slytherin posse slithered into the classroom. Pansy Parkinson whispered something under her breath that made the group erupt into loud, mocking laughter. It was obvious her comment was a snipe at the Golden Trio. Hermione frowned.

"She probably tried to count to five and missed." Harry whispered to Hermione. She had to place a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. Ever since her heart problems started, her friends had developed an embarrassing game of protecting her from stress and sadness by making her laugh. She pushed Harry's arm.

"No, Harry. She probably said the Malfoys really were under a spell when they helped You-Know-Who. Really, the Malfoys were cursed. Helpless. Completely under a spell..." Ron whispered in her other ear. Hermione bit her lip. Her stomach hurt from holding the laughter in. She shouldered him gently and shh'd him.

"No, Ron. Pansy probably told Malfoy that she's a virgin. And if he wants proof, he can go talk to the last ten guys she slept with." Harry said, imitating Pansy's blank-eyed mannerisms as he spoke. Hermione laughed so hard, tears formed in her eyes. She had to rest her forehead on the tabletop and hide her face so people wouldn't stare at her. Ron rubbed her back with a big, reassuring hand. She smiled a secret smile.

When class started, Snape oh-so-nicely put her in a group with Pansy and Goyle. He sent Malfoy to her old seat between Harry and Ron. Apparently, he wanted the class to fall into a blaze of chaos and catfights on the first day of classesl. Or, he wanted Harry and Ron to do something to lose house points. Hopefully they wouldn't fall for Snape's trap. Their house points were in the positive numbers so far today...

"When brewed correctly, your potion should emit a fragrance of gardenia and have a slight silver sheen mixed into the overall dull yellow color. Remember to stir the potion in a count-clockwise motion only. Clockwise stirring negates the protective properties of foxglove." The words rattled from Snape like old, dry bones. Hands clasped behind his back and black robes flowing, he paced the classroom. His beady eyes missed no mistakes.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter. You're supposed to dip the mermaid hair into the powdered mugwort AFTER you knot it nine times. Not BEFORE. Clean that bit off and knot it again. Otherwise, you'll be serving detention tonight in the lake with a pair of barber shears. Understood?" He spoke down his hooked nose. Draco sniggered. Harry grit his teeth and managed a nod.

"That's not how you grind mugwort. Are you stupid? How the hell were YOU picked for Head Girl?" Pansy Parkinson's voice was a high-pitched, nasal whine. Hermione cringed.

"I am perfectly capable. And I'm Head Girl because Dumbledore picked me. Go whine to him if you have a complaint." She replied and ground the pestle into the mortar with a vicious twist, pretending the mugwort was Pansy's face...

"Bah! Let me do that!" Pansy cawed, snatching the mortar and pestle from Hermione's hands. She and Goyle exchanged a quick glance.

"Give it back!" Hermione growled in frustration, keeping her voice low. Goyle placed himself between Hermione and Pansy like a wall. Arms crossed in front of his chest, the massive beast stared down at Hermione. She wasn't afraid.

"Is there a problem here, children?" Snape quirked a craggy black eyebrow.

"No, Sir. I was just about to give this powdered mugwort to Granger. She needs to make sure I've ground it properly." Pansy's eyelashes fluttered as she switched from psychopath to thoughtful lab partner.

"Very well." He fixed himself at the end of the table. "Miss Granger, please dip the knotted mermaid hair in the mugwort. When you've done that, place the hair into the cauldron. The mixture should turn black for a second." He instructed dryly. Hermione did exactly what he told her to do. The potion didn't change colors--it exploded and surrounded her in a chokingly thick cloud of blue smoke.

She sputtered a cough, waving her hand in front of her mouth to thin out the cloud. It only grew more dense and concentrated around her body until she had her own smoggy atmosphere.

"What's happening? She can't breathe!" A girl, who wasn't Pansy, screamed. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on. Harry and Ron shot from their seats. Everyone followed, gathering around the spectacle.

"Ventus fervens!" Snape commanded, brandishing his wand. A spiral of hot wind struck Hermione with enough force to dissipate the blanket of smoke. It rose, a bluish haze, to the high ceiling. Hermione coughed and gulped a breath of stale dungeon air. It was fresh enough.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Harry and Ron were suddenly at her side. She nodded and grimaced as the horrible stink of smoke hit her nose. Instead of smelling like a cookie, she smelled like a bonfire.

"I'm fine. I reek, though." With a small laugh, she wrinkled her nose.

"I thought you said she has asthma!" Pansy's whisper was a loud hiss. She wound back and punched Malfoy's arm.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Parkinson?" Snape turned to the Slytherin girl.

"Um...I was merely commenting to Draco that I hope the smoke didn't, ah, you know, bother Hermione's asthma." She stumbled through the sentence like a drunken person trying to walk a straight line.

"She doesn't have asthma, you git! Where'd you hear that?" Ron shouted. Pansy glared at Malfoy then at her shoes. Malfoy kept silent. He clenched his jaw.

Malfoy...

He set up the whole thing, Hermione realized.

On the Express, she had lied about her heart condition. She'd told him it was 'asthma'. The blue cloud of smoke that spewed from the cauldron was supposed to trigger a breathing condition she didn't even have. Hermione paled in fury, disgusted at the three Slytherins' cruelty. Up until this moment, she hadn't grasped the full potential of their evil nature. They were now sub-human in her eyes. Lower than the slime on dirt grubs.

"Er, Ron, I do have asthma... I was too ashamed to admit it to anyone. I'm only okay because I tried really, really hard to hold my breath." Oh, boy, was she going to roll with the lie. "I'm actually pretty light-headed right now. All the excitement is making ... me... cough." She erupted into a small fit of wheezing coughs. A murmur of concern breathed through the small crowd.

"Potter, Weasley--take Miss Granger to the hospital wing. Ten points from Gryffindor for turning my classroom into a smokehouse. Five points from Slytherin for not minding their own business." Snape's lip curled in disdain. "Everyone please bring thirteen inches of parchment next time--I wish to hear all about the proper technique for using a mortar and pestle. Class dismissed!" He stormed. Turning, he stalked to his office.

In the hallway, a couple of students from the potions class offered to walk with Ron, Harry, and Hermione to the hospital wing.

"Oh, thank you. I'll be fine. See you Thursday." Hermione couldn't wave goodbye because Harry and Ron held her by the elbows.

"What was that rubbish about your asthma? You weren't keeping it from us, were you?" Harry whispered as they walked toward the hospital wing.

"No. I don't have it, but Malfoy thinks I do. I had an 'episode' on the train and told him it was my 'asthma'. Last night, he told me that I'd regret Crookshanks tripping him. I guess this is his form of payback." Hermione sighed. Ron's fingers clamped down on her arm.

"I'll bloody murder him! And his bitch girlfriend." Ron muttered caustically. "Even for Malfoy, that was a low move. You're not safe living with him!"

"What?! I'm not living with him. We have our own rooms." Hermione protested. "You're babying me..."

"He has a point, Hermione. Be extra careful around Malfoy. Ignore him as much as you can. Don't even make eye contact. If anything like this happens again, he'll have the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team to answer to."

"And the chess club!" Ron added passionately.

The three friends stopped, stared at one another, and began to laugh.

"Oooh the chess club..." Hermione's voice trailed off...


	5. A Manipulative Little Ferret

Title: Break My Heart Not My Face

Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds

Notes: Draco/Hermione is sooo much better and sassier than Ron/Hermione. I don't care much for the HP canon pairings, anyway. As far as the new book goes, ten galleons says that Snape is a good guy. That's my opinion on the matter waves a mini I HEART SNAPE banner. Anyhoo, thanks to everyone who's been reading/reviewing/story alerting!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter stuff belongs to JRK. I just wrote this story.

Chapter Five: A Manipulative Little Ferret

Hermione headed up to the astronomy tower. Alone.

So much for patrolling with Malfoy.

It had been like this all week, since their first night of rounds. The second they'd left Snape's office with the patrol assignment, Malfoy had gone into 'I'm-listening-to-music-so-leave-me-alone' mode. Hermione had rolled her eyes and ripped the assignment in two parts.

"You patrol the first four places and I'll patrol the last four." She'd said and shoved the ripped parchment at him, pushing it against his chest.

That was Monday night.

By Friday, their nights were a quiet routine: Malfoy would step from the portrait and plug himself into his Ipod; Hermione would ignore him and walk the opposite direction down the corridor. It was a happy arrangement.

Hermione walked the tower stairs at a leisurely pace. It was the first Friday night of the school year and she had plans to hang out in the Gryffindor dorm after rounds. The week had been rough. She'd taken Harry's advice and had spent the week avoiding Malfoy like an Unforgivable curse.

Hermione sighed. She leaned against the cold stone balcony ledge and stared at the night. The deep indigo sky blended into the dark green horizon like mixed watercolor paints. Jagged treetops were nothing more than moon-silvered shadows. Everything was hushed and still... Which was surprising, considering all the dangerous things that lived in the forbidden forest ... Even so, the view was beautiful.

Her eyes softened as her thoughts wandered to Ron. If they became a couple, this place would be perfect for her first real kiss. They'd come up here after a formal ball, dressed up and passionate, and embrace. She smiled, lost in her dream.

"Shouldn't you be in your dorm? It's past your bedtime. I might have to deduct points from your house ... unless... you can convince me not to ..." A gratingly familiar voice purred. Hermione's hands balled into fists. She spun on her heel, an angry mass of wavy hair.

"Malfoy! Not funny!"

His laugh was shameless. He leaned against the stone ledge and flicked his hair back with a tilt of his aristocratic chin.

"Relax, Granger. I knew it was you. Snape saw me in the hallway and asked where you were. He gave me a grand lecture about how it's my job as Head Boy to keep you safe." His words were sweetened with false concern. Every feminist nerve in Hermione's body sparked like bomb wicks.

"I don't need protection! I can manage perfectly on my own, thank you." She snipped.

"Yeah, I told him that. He said we can either do rounds together or have detention together. Our choice. Get the point, Granger?" He glanced down his haughty nose at her, his eyes narrowing in amusement at her frustration.

"Ugh. Great." She muttered, turning from him to watch the moon. Compared to Malfoy, three trolls and a harpie were pleasant company. He was the last guy she wanted to share the romantic view with. "Well, as you can see ... I'm safe. I don't need you, so feel free to wander back to the dorm." Her voice was flat and dismissive.

An armslength away, Malfoy mirrored her stance. He rested his elbows on the cold ledge and stared out into the distance. Hermione peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. His hair was an ethereal white in the moonlight. His face was flawless alabaster. Even bent over with bad posture, it was obvious that he was taller than Ron. Hermione blinked in shock. Until this moment, she never realized how physically attractive Malfoy was.

Was she becoming shallow and vain? Or just more aware of things? She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her chest.

"Right then. I'm going back." Hermione moved to leave, but Malfoy stopped her with a question.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Granger?"

"If 'uncomfortable' means I'm wary of you... then, yes." She said simply, watching him. He threw a small pebble into the darkness. They both waited, listening. Hermione couldn't hear it land. Her heart began to beat an uncomfortable rhythm. Being alone with Malfoy made her nervous.

She tried to step past him. He stood in her way, an impassable wall. It drew her eyes to the broadness of his shoulders.

"I fluster you more than boytoy Weasley does. That means something, right? What other guy makes you feel so ..."

"Disgusted? Nauseous? Revolted?" She supplied with a smile.

"Excited." He quirked an un-phased eyebrow.

"What!?" She coughed from shock. "Why would you say that?"

He shrugged casually. His cool demeanor was a complete contrast to her riled temper.

"It explains why you get all hot and bothered every time we're together."

"If I am 'hot' and 'bothered', it's because every time we're together, you're hurling insults at me! And don't forget how you got all push-y shove-y on the Express." She said through her teeth, remembering the force he'd used to push her shoulders against the back of the seat.

"Granger, I touched you. And you had an asthma attack. Doesn't that say something?" His voice was soft. Amused. Dangerous.

"It says that I got scared because you pushed me around. I didn't have time to grab my wand and you happen to be a lot bigger than me." Her words were cool. His false charm meant nothing after six years of plotting and sneaky doings. Even though he was beautiful, he still had one of the most twisted, complex natures of anyone she'd ever met.

Malfoy snorted. Shadows darkened the paleness of his face as he tilted his chin to fix her with a stare.

"Prove it."

Hermione blinked. What the hell was he up to?

"I'm sorry. I have nothing to say to you. I don't have to prove myself." She elbowed past him. Marching toward the tower's trap door, Hermione flung it open hard on its heavy hinges. Screw him and his stupid games. He was like a cat with a baby bird--he was a creature amused by games and cruelty. How was she supposed to survive the school year if they had to patrol together every night? Angry tears pin-pricked her eyes.

She skittered down the tower staircase and ran through the corridor, head down and robes flowing, when someone grabbed her elbow. She spun around and came nose-to-chest with someone who smelled of expensive lavender and oakmoss cologne. The silver "H" badge at his heart, pinned beside the Slytherin crest on his robes, instantly gave him away. Malfoy. Hermione kept her eyes down as his fingers curled lightly around her wrists. He held her hands against his chest, forcing her to look up into his smug face. The contact put her into a slight panic.

"Are you out of your mind? What are you doing?" She tried to pull her wrists from his grasp. An odd mix of fear and anger struck her. Malfoy didn't seem to give a damn what she felt. He bent his neck so his face was a few inches from hers. In the torchlight of the corridor, Hermione stared into the dangerous gray of his eyes and watched the corner of his lips coil into a smirk, betraying the snake-like ways of a true Slytherin. His lips brushed her temple as he whispered in her ear.

"I think you're a liar, Granger. I don't know what happened on the train, but I'm going to keep pressing until I find out what's going on. There's something ... tempting ... about discovering your weaknesses." Warm breath touched her ear. "Especially if I'm one of them." His hands moved lower, fingers splayed, molding the curves of her small hips. Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Don't touch me like that! You have no right, Malfoy! Do you want me to slap the hell out of you AGAIN?" She added for emphasis, referring to how she'd knocked him senseless during their third year. He didn't have to know that she'd regretted losing her cool back then. Being angry didn't give her the right to hurt someone (even Malfoy...) just because they were being rude and annoying.

He had the grace to smile at her threat.

"I know you better than that, Granger. You may be bossy and a know-it-all, but deep-down, you're a compassionate person. What if I told you I had a rough childhood? Complete with neglect and an unloving father?" His long carefully-cut, white-blonde bangs fell at an angle across his face.

Oh, he was such a manipulative little ferret.

"I'd give you a great big hug and bake a batch of your favorite cookies. Poor baby." She cooed, placing a hand on his chest, not realizing her voice sounded more flirty than sarcastic. Since when did she, bookworm Hermione Granger, know how to flirt? It must be Ginny's outrageous influence, Hermione blinked.

To her shock, Malfoy's fingers tightened around her hips. He pulled her entirely too close. What began as a game between them somehow changed into something more serious. She'd never been held this way by any guy, including Viktor Krum. The strange look on Malfoy's face and the glint in his eyes scared her.

"I see, Mr. Malfoy, you've found Ms. Granger." The dry voice of Severus Snape broke the silence. Hermione blushed. Of all people to see her like this Snape was by far the most embarrassing choice.

Not sparing a second, Hermione went limp in Malfoy's arms. Surprised, he locked his elbows and braced his knees to keep her standing. She seemed as lifeless as a ragdoll. Her shoulders drooped and her head bent forward, her thin neck resembling a bent lily stem. The hand that she had pressed against his chest now clutched at his robes for support. This is what Snape saw as he circled the couple like a keen-eyed vulture.

"I...I can manage to stand on my own now, Malfoy." Hermione managed an indignant tone in her prideful but weakened state. "I just shouldn't have taken the tower steps so fast... so soon after the scare I had on Monday. Madame Pomfrey told me to take it easy..." Her voice was breathy.

"A damn stupid thing to do, Granger. I'm Head Boy, not your nanny. Can't I lean you against a statue somewhere? You're putting wrinkles in my robes." Malfoy's lip curled in disdain.

"Not so fast, Mr. Malfoy. Is Ms. Granger ill?" Snape's dark eyes narrowed as he examined the scene.

"Not ill. Winded. She was doing rounds by herself and decided to run down the tower stairs for fun. I found her here, ready to fall over, chattering on about her asthma." Malfoy lied beautifully, a master at the art.

Snape sniffed and straightened his posture, his hands clasped sternly behind his back.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for Ms. Granger's careless disregard for Head duties and Twenty points to Slytherin for Mr. Malfoy's diligence and sense of duty. Draco, please see Ms. Granger to her room." He instructed.

Malfoy roughly grabbed Hermione's arm as if he intended to drag her back to the dorm.

"And Draco...The next time Ms. Granger feels the need to run down the stairs in her condition, I advise you to let her make the floor's acquaintance. Sometimes common sense must be knocked into a person's head if their skull is particularly thick." Snape sneered and spoke as if the words stuck in his throat. Hermione coughed.

"God, he's unbearable." She muttered under her breath when the Potions Master was out of hearing range. "Good thing you're so brilliant at lying." She shot a look at Malfoy.

"Me? I was playing along with YOUR lie, Granger. I had no idea a Gryffindor could be so dishonest."

"Because you underestimate my house." She threw back. "I guess this means we have to patrol together from now on..."

Malfoy shrugged.

"It'll give you more time to stare at my hot ass." He straightened the collar of his robe, catching her eye with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes.


End file.
